


will you take my soul in the midnight rain (while i'm falling apart)

by blurryfaced



Series: nameless, faceless [4]
Category: GOT7
Genre: I tried my best, Implied Mistreatment, M/M, and more tattoos!!, and officer jinyoung, because i love tattoos, don't question me i don't plan stuff well, jackson has worrying behaviour, mafia boss mark yes, mistreatment is apparently a word im amazed, um, undetermined mental illness, what the hell do i put here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: “tomorrow morning,” jinyoung says, slowing his thumbs until he’s just cupping jackson’s cheeks, “you’re telling me everything.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowedMelody (ShadowedMaiden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedMaiden/gifts).



> i'm sorry. but also not. maybe.
> 
> uni application time = stress = fling me into the sun. i've finished my application finally and so i rewarded myself by writing the beginning of a situation i've been wanting to write for a _very long_ time; i give you markjinson's life in this au. ages may be played around with?? i haven't thought about how old people need to be here for their jobs, whoops. there will be more of them in the future, and i will expand on jackson a lot in the future, too, but until i know _concretely_ how to explain it... this is what you can expect.
> 
>  **warning(s):** worrying behaviour, undetermined mental illness, implied mistreatment.
> 
> again, i'm sorry. sort of.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this as much as the others!!
> 
> —mack

jinyoung wraps his dressing gown tighter around his body, fiddling with the belt before he finally manages to tie a knot. it's late, much later than mark has been coming home the past month or so, and he would say he's worried, but they've been dating for years now. he's not a newbie at this, not an inexperienced piece in the game. but, even so, when mark comes home with somebody pressed tightly into his side, fisting his jacket so hard their knuckles are white, jinyoung decides he's allowed to frown.

mark murmurs something in mandarin to the two women that had followed him — and the unidentified somebody — inside. the two of them hesitate, hanging in the doorway. one's staring sharply at the stranger while the other seems more interested in keeping their gaze darting over mark's face. it takes another set of stern words and a harsh expression to have them leaving with a small bow. the door clicks shut behind them, the only sound in the otherwise quiet home. jinyoung's frown deepens when mark doesn't immediately turn to look at him, or give him something like an explanation. he knows mark knows he’s there; mark always knows when he’s close. he crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the wall of the hallway.

the last month or so had been going good. there hadn't been too much conflict between the tuans and the police department. it had actually been one of the few moments of calm and piece that included their jobs and carried into their personal life. it puts jinyoung at ease when he knows that he doesn't have to pretend that he doesn’t know the tuans' leader, or of occasional inner workings of the gang. mafia group. whatever they like to call themselves. he knows mark doesn't have it as difficult on a personal level when it comes to this, but in his position, he doesn't have to worry about whether or not his group knows he's dating a police officer. all he has to mention is a threat towards anybody who harms jinyoung and suddenly he's feared again noticeably for the next few months or so. and it's been nice.

jinyoung called up his parents and got several home recipes he hadn't cooked in years. mark laughed when he came home one day to the smell of burnt food and a dirty, food-covered jinyoung. the mafia boss had gotten into his laziest clothes and wandered into the kitchen, cleaning up as he helped. it was the most domestic thing the two of them had done in a long while.

so, forgive jinyoung if he doesn't quite understand where this enters into things.

mark licks his lips and shoots a look at jinyoung's face. it's quick and doesn't linger, making jinyoung breath just a little heavier through his nose. it's not quite a sigh, but it's _almost_ there. mark licks his lips again and stands up a little taller. "jinyoung."

"mark," jinyoung replies. he pushes himself away from the wall and takes a step forward, further into the light of the entryway.

"can you take him?" it's quiet and soft, his english hardly accented. jinyoung's english has gotten better, the korean accent he had originally melting away until he and mark sounded the same. almost. and it had been thanks to this; to speaking english at home even when it was just the two of them, until it became habit.

jinyoung blinks and looks down at the somebody — _young man_. he thinks he can spy broad shoulders and blond hair, but he's not sure. the light in the entryway isn't very good, the shadows from mark's form hiding the other man quite well. nevertheless, he moves forward, slippers loud on wood, and hovers a foot away, hands outstretched awkwardly. with a short look to mark, he presses a hand to between the man's shoulder blades and another on his arm, trying to ease him off his boyfriend. the stranger flinches away and clings tighter.

"hey— hey," mark mumbles. jinyoung removes his hands immediately but doesn't step back, just watches mark struggle to lift the man's head off his shoulder with one hand. mandarin washes over jinyoung in unfamiliar bursts and he wishes he'd kept it up, wishes he remembered more than he does now. he feels useless and he hates it. if only he could contribute in some fashion, make this easier for the obviously frightened young man.

he thinks he sees a sharp jaw and pink lips. or maybe they're not pink. has the young man been biting his lips? he hears his name which snaps him to attention. he smiles softly when mark looks at him, followed by large, round eyes. he knows he looks disarming when he smiles, eyes pushing into crescents, cheeks round and wrinkles whiskering out at the corners of his eyes. so many compliments for his smile but he's only ever paid mind to mark's.

a large hand reaches out to him, trembling if jinyoung looks close enough, and he takes it as softly as he can. the skin's cool, probably from the cold temperatures of the night, and makes him want to warm it up as best he can. there's a beat of silence when the man openly looks at jinyoung, and the young korean man is shocked at how... _old_ the man looks. he'd been considering that, maybe, mark had found a teenager in a tricky situation and decided to help out for the night not... not someone who looks as old as _jinyoung_.

the young man practically _collapses_ into jinyoung and jolts him out of his stupor.

"mark?" he asks uneasily, letting cold fingers slide between his own.

mark's running fingers through his hair a little too frantic to be normal, and when he drops his hands there are strands standing every which way. he looks exhausted, when he turns his face to jinyoung. he looks like he's seen too much, had to do too much in one night. something's taking its toll on him. jinyoung wants nothing more than to hug his partner, but with the body trembling against him, he hasn't got an option. so instead, he wraps an arm around the body and watches mark take his boots off.

the young man has tucked his nose against jinyoung's throat and his breath fans over the exposed skin, warm and humid. he's holding tightly onto the other's hand and has hooked his fingers into the belt of jinyoung's dressing gown, knuckles pressed against the middle of his back through the thick, fluffy material. jinyoung thinks vaguely that this isn't how grown people are supposed to behave.

"jinyoung-ah," mark says. he rubs at the small of his back when he stands again. his eyes are tired when they look at his boyfriend's face. "we might have a problem."

jinyoung allows himself a second to give mark a look he knows damn well says, _do you fucking think?_ "what happened, mark."

mark eyes the young man and jinyoung thinks his heart melts when mark's expression does. he's not sure what about it melts the taiwanese-american, or makes him move forward until he's standing close enough to run his fingers gently through blond strands. jinyoung can feel the young man nuzzle against his neck shyly.

"jackson."

jinyoung blinks and looks up. "what?"

"his name is jackson."

he makes an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, eyes staring at mark’s face. the softness is still there, eyes tracing the way jinyoung holds jackson; palm pressed gentle to his back, fingers spread and reassuring. it’s the way he holds mark when he knows his partner’s been overworking, exhausted down to the marrow of his bones and there’s very little keeping his sanity in check. it’s his default hold now — _hug_ , whatever you want to call it — and he thinks he should change it, make it less personal and intimate, but his body won’t follow his command.

“mark,” he says again, and he thinks about all those books and movies where people get stressed and revert to their mother tongue; he thinks about how it’s such a stupid trope that just doesn’t happen. “ _mark_.” his voice is harsher, stronger, and mark snaps his eyes to look up at him at the same time that the man in his arms — _jackson_ — stiffens. “why am I holding jackson?”

they stare at each other for a few moments in silence, nobody saying anything. it feels awkward, jackson stiff against his side when he had practically melted against him earlier. and jinyoung tries to remedy it, he really does. he gently rubs circles into the small of jackson’s back with his hand, giving the young man a gentle squeeze. there’s softness to mark’s gaze again and his shoulders slump.

“it’s a long story,” he says, rubbing at his face. his nails drag down his cheek and jinyoung wants to press gentle kisses to the pink lines that decorate the skin. “but first, we need to take care of jackson.”

jinyoung blinks at the sudden change into korean. it’s not like he’s forgotten mark speaks it; it was how they first met. he had still been learning english at that point, cursing to himself quietly in a library when he couldn’t get a sentence to sound as if a native had spoken it. mark had laughed and walked over, offering help in korean. jinyoung still wonders what mark saw in him all those years ago that lead them to where they are now.

jackson stirs against jinyoung, turning his head so he can look at mark from under jinyoung’s jaw. he’s almost like a rabbit, so skittish and nervous. mark just smiles at him and runs his fingers through blond strands yet again.

“shall we give you a bath, jackson?” mark asks, and he’s still speaking in korean. it takes jinyoung longer than he’d feel proud to admit for him to realize that _jackson understands korean_. the man’s nodding shyly against his neck, hiding his face as soon as mark’s smile widens enough to split his lips open and teeth to poke through, surrounded by pink.

jinyoung’s mind is officially not working when he leads the way up the stairs, wandering along the landing. he’s moving towards the spare bathroom, walking as slow as he can to ensure neither he nor jackson tumble head over heels. the man’s still clinging to him, still holding onto him tight. the officer’s not even sure if the young man’s looking where they’re going, or if he’s just blindingly trusting jinyoung to take him to where they’ve said they’re going to take him.

“yah, jinyoung-ah,” mark calls softly from behind them, a hand sliding up to curl around jinyoung’s empty shoulder. he blinks and looks behind him at mark, face impressively impassive. “let’s take him to our bathroom, okay?”

jinyoung doesn’t argue. it’s not that he and mark have some weird kind of relationship that extends from mark’s job; him being a mafia boss is a large source of conflict between the two of them — conflicting morality and ethics have been the topics to long-winded dinner conversations on more than one occasion — it’s more that, tonight, mark’s not being himself at home. he’s clinging to how he acts as a mafia boss around jinyoung when he’s in the presence of associates.

this isn’t going to be a normal evening.

the heating through the floor is turned on while mark starts to sort out the water in their bath tub. jinyoung moves slowly to the toilet and removes his hand from jackson’s back. he freezes at the quiet whimper he gets, only having heard it because jackson’s mouth is _so close_ to his ear. he swallows, but follows through, gently easing the man out of his grip and sitting him on the toilet seat lid.

jackson’s face isn’t what he expected. his features are strong and evidently masculine. it doesn’t matter that his eyes are large and round, resembling those of a kicked puppy so strongly jinyoung almost reaches out to pet him like one. he swallows and just stares, hands hovering over jackson’s shoulders. he’d been retracting them from when he’d moved the young man, but one look at the _broken_ expression on jackson’s face had him rethinking.

jinyoung cups jackson’s cheeks in both of his hands, the frown on his face inevitable when cold seeps into the skin of his palms. mark wouldn’t have walked home. he has more than enough cars and chauffeurs with their own cars at his disposal. or maybe wherever he’d gone that night was close to their home that he didn’t see the need to. the idea sends goosebumps up his arms.

“what happened to you?” jinyoung murmurs in english. he rubs his thumbs over the apples of jackson’s cheeks and watches those large eyes close, deep brown lashes casting small shadows.

he almost jumps out of his skin when mark winds his arms around his waist, pressing his back against his as well as he can in this position. he continues to gently rub at jackson’s cheeks, eyes zeroing in on the relaxed curve to his shoulders and back, the content curl to his lips. mark’s chin digs into his shoulder and he lets out a small, shaky breath.

“tomorrow morning,” jinyoung says, slowing his thumbs until he’s just cupping jackson’s cheeks, “you’re telling me everything.”

mark nods against his shoulder and turns to press a kiss to his partner’s neck. smoothing his hands down to his hips, he gives them a squeeze and stands back. “the bath’s ready. undress him.”

jinyoung stands slowly, hands dropping to his side, and he stares openly at the other man. he’s shedding his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves higher, to his elbow. once he’s done so, he loosens his tie and yanks it off over his head. his clothes are dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, and in any other situation, jinyoung would smack him over the back of his head and make him pick them up.

mark looks up, fingers pausing in his own hair mid-ruffle. he blinks. “are you not going to undress him?”

“I—” he feels lost. he’s hoping he looks as lost as he feels, because this isn’t normal. this is seriously not normal. slowly, his eyes move to jackson, who’s looking at him curiously, cautiously, from the toilet. “why do we need to do this, mark?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow morning, remember?”

jinyoung presses his lips into a straight, thin line, fills his lungs with air. he moves his hands close and starts to unzip jackson’s jacket, eyes stuck on the young man’s face. panic is slowly bubbling up into his expression and his muscles tense under jinyoung’s touch.

“no— no, it’s okay,” jinyoung says, catching himself and speaking in korean, voice soft and gentle. the voice he’s been told could read, talk or even sing people into a relaxed state only massages normally reach. “I’m just— we’re taking your clothes off so you can go in the bath, okay?”

his hands have stopped, still holding the zipper and the jumper, but he waits. he lets jackson look him in the eyes, search each one individually. only when jackson gives a small nod does he continue, opening the jacket completely and slipping it off jackson’s shoulders. it goes much like this, the rest of the process, speaking aloud to jackson about what they’re going to do next, asking him to help, giving him a sense that he has a choice. part of jinyoung can’t help but think him and mark are somehow tricking him.

jinyoung’s brain misfires for the second time that night when mark helps jackson into the bath tub. there are tattoos covering his torso and his thighs. ink that doesn’t stand out against his skin, but doesn’t blend into it, either. the only way he can think about it is that they _belong there_. it doesn’t feel weird to look at jackson as he slides into the warm water with mark’s help and notice that he has swirls around his elbow or feathers dangling from thin strings from his collarbones.

his gaze focuses when mark’s hands cut into his vision, washing over the tanned skin with a flannel, leaving suds behind. he blinks a few times, eyes feeling too dry and a little achy, and looks up at mark. he stays where he’s standing, hands limp by his sides, jackson’s clothes on the floor, shoes neatly placed next to the bathmat, and he suddenly feels so tired. he doesn’t remember what time it was that mark finally came home, the sound of keys in the door alerting jinyoung’s half asleep state that he should put his book down and check on his partner to make sure he’s still alive.

he moves slowly and sits down on the toilet seat lid, still a little warm from jackson, and watches mark. he watches as mandarin flows from pink lips and gentle hands clean skin. jackson just sits there, resting against the side of the tub until mark asks to clean his back. there are suds against his skin and in his hair, flowing in the water like petrol in the sea. something’s swimming in jinyoung, now, and he—

“hey, jinyoung-ah.”

mark’s smiling softly at him, sheepishly. jinyoung can’t see his teeth, just the smallest darkness in between his parted lips. he raises his eyes a fraction to stare into mark’s instead, still standing next to the bath, wet hands curling around the sides. his smile widens minimally when he has his attention, and the sheepishness increases ever more.

“can you go get jackson some towels, please?”

jinyoung nods and stands, leaving the room. his slippered feet step on several items of clothing but he pays no mind for once, just nudges them out of the way and continues on his way. he pulls open their laundry cupboard and runs his fingers along towels until he finds two soft enough that he knows feel heavenly against his skin. gently pulling them from the pile, he walks back into the bathroom where mark’s pulled the plug and the water is slowly draining around jackson.

mark eases jackson onto his feet and keeps a hold on him as he steps out of the bath to make sure he doesn’t slip. he takes one towel from jinyoung and gives the man’s body a quick wipe over, ruffling his hair and grinning at the happy little sound jackson makes. jinyoung thinks it’s meant to resemble a laugh and he doesn’t know how to feel.

to keep himself occupied, he steps forward and wraps the other towel around jackson, opting to tie it around his chest, so it rests just under his arms, instead of around his waist. it’s too cold, even with the warm humidity in the bathroom. jackson may have been forced onto him without his consent, without his say, but that doesn’t mean he wants the man to get ill.

jackson’s looking at him. just looking at him, and it invokes so many emotions into jinyoung’s already exhausted and slowly numbing mind that he doesn’t know what to think. he’s not able to put a name to anything that’s swimming around in his head, and it should probably be worrying, but he can’t even manage to think about that, either.

mark’s gone from the bathroom. jinyoung doesn’t know when he left, but jackson is slowly reaching out for his hand and curling his fingers nervously around jinyoung’s heart and little finger. something twinges in jinyoung and he pulls jackson’s fingers against his palm, running his thumb over any skin within his reach. he’s trying to figure out more shapes on jackson’s body, other than _swirls_ and _feathers_ — but he can only register **_ink_**. black ink, blue ink, a deep brown that makes him think of henna tattoos.

he sighs and rubs at his face with his free hand, using his index and middle finger to smooth over the skin between his brows. when he drops his hand, jackson’s eyes are wide and his brows are pulled into some kind of mixture between concern and panic.

“it’s okay,” jinyoung says, and he almost yawns. almost. “come on.”

he’s not waiting for mark to come back to the bathroom, so he leads jackson out and into the bedroom, slowly sitting the man down on the footstool at the end of their bed. he squeezes the fingers in his hold and then gently loosens them. wandering back into the bathroom, he gathers the clothes on the floor and dumps them in the washing bin, grasping jackson’s shoes. they look old and tattered, dirt up the sides. he thinks they must have thin soles by now, and wonders if they should keep them.

a quiet sound from the bedroom forces him to peek through the bathroom doorway. jinyoung blinks.

jackson’s not sitting on the footstool any more; the towel's there, left as if pooled around an invisible figure. no, jackson’s on the bed, face pressed one the sheets and knees spread, back in a gentle arch. he’s placed his hands on the small of his back, crossed at the wrists. the strain makes muscle and tendon move beneath his ink and jinyoung blinks again.

he drops the shoes on the floor, the dull thud making jackson whimper and turn his head, pressing his nose further into the sheets. jinyoung steps slowly out of the bathroom, only getting a few feet from the doorway when mark returns. the taiwanese-american sends jinyoung a confused look before stopping himself when he catches sight of jackson. the three of them are in silence, two pairs of eyes staring at the— the _offering_. the word makes jinyoung feel a little sick in the back of his mouth.

“mark?” he asks, voice quiet. this time, it isn’t because he’s worried he’ll scare jackson. “what’s he doing?”

“oh, jackson-ah,” mark’s moving again, placing what he’d gone to fetch — pyjamas, jinyoung notices in a detached manner, the thought only just registering in his head as a passing thought — on the footstool. he walks to the side of the bed and runs fingers through jackson’s hair. “jackson-ah, hey, what are you doing?”

jackson says nothing, eyes still shut and nose still pressed into the sheets. the only indication that he’s head mark’s words at all is reflected in the twitch of his fingers. jinyoung removes his gaze stiffly from the young man and stares holes into the pyjamas.

“jackson, we don’t want you to do this,” mark says. and he says it softly. it’s not a command, not an order; not the way he says it. jinyoung would analyze this situation if he was in his right mind, he’d try and take part, try and figure out what’s wrong with jackson, but he can’t. he really can’t, not right now. he thinks that, just maybe, instead of coffee tomorrow, he and mark will share shots of rum and gin.

there’s movement, and damn his body, because he’s immediately on it, eyes rolling over marks hands on jackson’s shoulder and chest, easing the man back onto his heels so he’s kneeling on the bed. jackson’s eyes are still closed, hands still behind his back, and jinyoung’s stomach gives a little lurch.

he doesn’t choose to stay in his bedroom much longer; he turns the light out in the bathroom and exits the room, walking down the stairs and entering the kitchen. forget alcohol tomorrow, he wants some right now. he finds the rum quickly and stares at the bottle in contemplation until he decides not to be an idiot. a glass and a rummage through the fridge later, he’s taking slow mouthfuls of rum and coke with closed eyes, leaning against the counter and curling fingers around the edge.

there’s no rush, and he can hear faint footsteps from upstairs, but not much else. he doesn’t want to hear their conversation, whether in korean or mandarin. he just wants to pretend for the moment that everything is okay so he can sleep easy tonight. it’s not two seconds after he’s placed his empty glass in the sink that mark and jackson are standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“jinyoungie.”

he turns and looks. jackson’s wearing soft pyjamas. proper pyjamas, not just sweatpants and a t-shirt. proper pyjamas that one of them had bought a while ago and forgotten about, probably. they look silky, a pastel shade of green that looks nice on him. he swallows and turns his gaze to mark. the man’s also in his pyajamas and jinyoung _wonders_.

“are there any leftovers in the fridge?” mark asks, already moving towards it, as if tonight’s a normal night where work kept one of them out of the house for longer than they’d liked.

“I don’t know.” he coughs, voice a little hoarse. mark sends him a look out of the corner of his eye but otherwise lets it go. he repeats, “I don’t know. maybe.”

jackson’s staring at jinyoung. his fingers pull at the sleeves that jinyoung notices only now are a little too long for him. he’s shorter than both of them, and though his body is still proportionate, the muscled figure he showed in various states of undress keeps tricking jinyoung’s mind. but he doesn’t back down from jackson’s stare. or maybe that’s the wrong way to put it. he doesn’t consider it a challenge, or sorts. instead, it’s more like he can’t think clearly enough to consider looking away an option.

jackson pads forward, and jinyoung doesn’t know why he thought jackson would still be barefoot, because there’s old slippers mark had stopped wearing when jinyoung had given him his last christmas present on his feet, scuffing against the linoleum floor. the blond stops just in front of jinyoung, who raises his eyes. nervousness colours every inch of his face, magnified by the fingers that are still pulling at his sleeve.

he thinks he hears mark mutter something about leftovers in the fridge but jackson’s reaching out hesitantly, fingers walking around jinyoung’s sides until he hugs him, hands against the small of his back and head resting on his shoulder. jinyoung wonders about a child who’s just been adopted and is unsure around one of their new parents. he thinks jackson might be trying to make him feel better.

then there are gentle, soft lips pressing against his cheek and he freezes completely. jackson pulls back and scans his face, nervously flicking his eyes around jinyoung’s features. he fists the back of jinyoung’s dressing gown again, makes a sad noise in the back of his throat and hangs his head.

jinyoung locks eyes with mark over jackson’s head and he feels lost. mark has the decency to look apologetic, at least, for having sprung such a surprise on him. but he makes no move to take jackson from him, and the blond himself makes no move to pull away from jinyoung either. they should take him to see someone. this isn’t normal behaviour, this isn’t how an adult acts, it’s _worrying behaviour_. jackson hasn’t said a single word, but mark’s indulging him—

he turns and looks at the clock on the wall. the hour is slowly creeping from stupidly late night to stupidly early morning. he watches the minute hand and feels the world distort around him from his exhaustion.

with his hands on jackson’s cheeks, he tilts the man’s head up and presses a gentle, soft kiss to his forehead. he doesn’t look at jackson’s face and immediately proceeds to press just as soft kisses on both his cheeks. when he finally looks, the blond’s eyes are wide and round, looking at him with none of the nerves from before, but rather some kind of _awe_.

something pings in the background and jinyoung looks up, spies mark taking something out of the microwave. “jackson-ah,” he says, and jackson turns his head in jinyoung’s hands, eyes still wide, lips ever so slightly parted. “it’s time to eat, okay?”

jackson turns back to look at jinyoung, and the korean man can only think that he’s asking for _permission_ to go to mark and eat. so he swallows the feeling that this is so horribly _wrong_ and nods. “go on, jackson. it’s time to eat.”

jackson slips from between his hands and follows mark out of the kitchen and to the dining table. when mark places the food utensils on the table, both of them expect jackson to slide into the seat and cautiously take the fork to start eating. jinyoung wonders if he should have another rum and coke when he sees jackson fall to his knees instead, seemingly numb to the thud when they connect with the floor, and shuffles under the table, facing the chair. or maybe this time he’ll forget the coke. rum on it’s own can’t be too bad, right?

eyes are on him, he can feel them more than see them. so he lifts his gaze from jackson to mark and locks onto his gaze. for the first time tonight, he thinks that mark had only the smallest of says in this situation; that he wasn’t expecting all of this, either; that he didn’t know it was this _bad_. jinyoung uncurls his fingers from the counter yet again and exits the kitchen. he kisses mark’s lips chastely, one hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

mark shakes his head and pecks his lips back. “it’s okay. go to bed and sleep. you look dead on your feet.”

jinyoung doesn’t sleep easy that night.


End file.
